The End of the Game
by Clariz
Summary: Three years after the night at the Chesapeake, Clarice, no longer with the Burea, fears she'll never see Hannibal again, and waits.


_They will forever belong to T. Harris, I own nothing here._

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**_End of the Game._**  
  
She woke up sensing there was someone in the room. The light from the moon shone thru the window with an eerie glow, not dull enough however, that she would miss the _new_ shadow on a corner.

  
She held still, trying to control her breathing, counting every breath while attempting to keep them even.  
  
"Good evening, Clarice," said the shadow on the corner.  
  
Somehow, the sound of his voice eased her breathing. Him, she could handle.   
She was not sure she would handle herself though, so long had she yearned to see him, to hear his voice, to touch him.   
So intensely had she feared she'd never see him again, that she would have to live to the end of her days waiting in vain for his return.  
  
The shadow moved towards the bed, and she was certain he could read her thoughts, smell her longing for him, her need to reach out for him, eyes closed, with the same blind, unconcerned final despair of one who jumps from a bridge. And she guessed he knew this too. He, who knew her better than she knew herself, who was emotionally, much stronger than she could ever be…He, who knew how to wait.   
  
He was besides her bed now. His eyes on hers. His eyes of their first meeting at the dungeon _"I myself cannot. You use Evyan skin cream "... "Very slippery of you, Agent Starling"._ His eyes in Krendler's kitchen, right before he brought down the cleaver on his left thumb. _"This is really going to hurt, Clarice"_  
  
"May I sit on your bed, Clarice?" ever the gentleman.  
  
"Y… yes Dr. Lecter."  
  
"Hannibal, if you please, Clarice"  
  
"Hannibal," she repeated as if hypnotized.  
  


She realized the pathos of her situation.  
"Why are you here, Hannibal" Suddenly she felt herself bounce back, found her voice and with her voice she found some strength.  
  
She wanted to make it or break it, once and for all, or die in the process. She wanted to turn the tables on him. So long as he was intent on having her reveal her _true feelings_, while not revealing his own in return, she felt she could make the same demands from him.  
  
She wanted him to come out clean with her, to commit himself, to go far beyond a lame _"If you love me stop"…_  
  
"To see you, Clarice, to talk to you," his voice trailed, "…to resume our old chats"  
  
But she was thru with ambiguity, this was far from _it_ and they both know it.  
  
"Your first lie to me, Hannibal, how sad" Clarice couldn't resist the temptation to use his words of long ago .  
  
He leaned over her and hissed, "are you calling _me_ a liar, former Special Agent Starling?"  
She felt herself growing stronger, she was getting to him, and _that_ was progress.  
  
"I'm just saying that you are too smart to risk everything for an inconsequential chat with no foreseeable outcome. That you are refusing to put your cards on the table and have the gall to deem me a coward for doing the same" She felt exhilarated by her own word. "Stop playing games and come to the point, Doctor"  
  
He leaned towards her, his eyes fierce   
"A liar and a coward, both," he hissed with the mockery of the old days. "Very daring of you, Little Starling, imprudent and daring."   
  
His face was only a few inches from hers and they could feel each other's breath. She felt exhilarated, wished he'd just go and ravage her, but knew he wouldn't make it easy for her. He was much more complicated than that, and so was she.  
  
A long silence followed.  
  
"What is it that you wish to hear me say, Clarice?" he hissed, but there was a softness behind the hiss, a veiled glint of tenderness.  
  
"For now just your true motives, Dr. Lecter, the real reason for your presence here." Her own voice a little softer.  
  
He buried one of his hands on her hair, looking deep into her eyes, while his revealed nothing, and she wondered how his tongue would feel in her mouth, and thought how easy it would be just to reach out for him and pull him towards her …the thought was intoxicating. But she had gotten this far and wouldn't give up now  
  
"No more games, Hannibal, I'm tired of playing your games. For starters I want no more games… AND I want to know your motives." Her voice reflected the years of inner conflict. Which HE had created for his amusement; these hide and seek games they had been playing.  
  
Slowly, with his right hand, he pulled the Harpy from his jacket pocket, it made a definite click when he opened it with one hand, as he always did, and the _clawlike_ blade gleamed in the moonlight .  
She kept her eyes on his, _"in the end,"_ she though, _"what does it matter? Who cares how the game ends as long as it does?"_  
  
With his left hand, the one where the thumb had been reattached, after the fiasco of their last encounter, he held a handful of her hair and pulled her head back so that her throat was taut and fully extended. She kept her eyes on his, daring him; but didn't move.  
He brought the blade down.  
She didn't flinch.   
He ran the blade along her neck, both tickling and arousing her. The blade making fine patterns on her skin, slow, sharp, and sensual.  
Finally, when he found the right spot, he made a small cut and it started to bleed.   
  
He leaned over slow and deliberate, licked the blood hungrily , then , ever so sensuous started kissing her neck, tracing with his tongue upwards and to the side, nipping her ear with his teeth.  
  


When he was about to drive her mad, he stopped. He lifted his head again, and looked in her eyes. He had blood on his lips, it looked quite black in the light of the moon, and she felt on the verge of giving in to her need to cover  his mouth with hers and just get lost in her long, endless need of him.  
But she held back.  
  
"Brave Clarice," he muttered, in wonderment, "you want to hear how much I longed for you, all these years?" he closed his eyes briefly, as if to shake away memories of his own solitude… "Is that what you want?" he hissed "Do you want me to use tired words like _LOVE_ to express feelings that go far beyond such worn, overused, meaningless word? … If I did, if I told you that you are my one soul mate, the one I ache for every waking moment, and even in my sleep; would you then come with me and stay, until the end?"  
  
He grabbed her hair again, and pulled, his eyes almost black in the moonlight, his mouth spotted black from traces of her blood.  
He closed his eyes, and for an instant, uncharacteristically, felt sorry for both of them and their seemingly endless internal turmoil over their feelings for one another.  
  
She lifted one hand and touched his cheek_. "_This might be_ it_," she thought. The offering had been made and the question asked… she was a little scared, because she knew there will be no more chances, this was the last stop.  
  
Suddenly he said, "is it possible that you don't know how I feel for you?" he sounded truly puzzled.  
  


"You are not exactly an open book, Hannibal."  
  
With one hand she reached for a small object under her pillow and closed her hand on it, then pushed back the covers, while with the other hand she pushed him gently aside and got up. She was naked and her body shone on the moonlight. He held his breath but didn't ogle, just looked in her eyes, and stood up as well.  
  
"Do you want me to go with you, now, Hannibal?" she asked, amazed at the sound of her own words.  
  
"Don't play with me, Clarice," he warned, his eyes wild. " You know I do."  
  
She didn't bother with underwear. Just slipped on a shirt she picked from the back of a chair and threw on a pair of jeans, clipped her own Harpy to the right hand pocket of her jeans, expertly, towards the side so it laid flat against her hip inside the pocket, almost invisible. Her gaze met his and she saw a glint of respectful surprise at the sight of her Harpy. She slipped her feet in a pair of clogs, and turned to him  
"No more games, Dr. Lecter" she picked up her handbag .  
  
She faced him now, placed both hands on his upper chest, and looked into his eyes. She saw calm in there.   
  


He didn't speak, just waited. He had waited years for this moment and didn't want to break the spell.  
  


"I'm ready as I'll ever be, Hannibal. Lets go now, and never look back."   
He looked at her with a mixture of amazement and glee, nodded, his eyes deep into hers , never letting go.  
Blindly he reached for her hand with his left while he pocketed his Harpy with his right hand.  
  
Slowly, he said, "if you need to hear it, Clarice, if it means that much to you, I'll…"   
  
"Shhh ," she hushed, bringing his hand to her lips and kissing the scar around his thumb.  
" There'll be no conditions to my …_ love_… Hannibal, not in a thousand years".   
  
  
FIN


End file.
